


Just Might Find 18

by helens78, Telesilla



Series: Just Might Find [22]
Category: Equilibrium (2002) RPF
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Dom/sub, Kink, Knifeplay, M/M, Masochism, Sadism, The Establishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-23
Updated: 2006-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-05 18:28:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill takes Sean all the way to bloodplay, and there's some talk afterward about where they can go with it in the future... and where they can go in the future overall.  Options are put on the table, and a vacation is planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Might Find 18

It's been a pretty typical day so far, and Bill is humming to himself as he comes to the front door. Sean had needed to go shopping and so Bill had gone on his own to the club for his workout. Already in a good mood thanks to the feeling of accomplishment he always feels after exercising, once he sees Sean kneeling in the entryway with his leash in his hands he feels even better.

It must say something good about the way things have been going that one of the best part of Sean's day is waiting for Bill, anticipating how good it's going to feel when the leash goes back on. He grins up at Bill as he comes in. "Welcome back, master," he says softly. God, and Bill's going to smell and taste like a heavy workout. Sean doubts he's ever enjoyed having the scent of his master's sweat all over him the way he does with Bill.

"Thank you, boy," Bill says taking up the leash and attaching it to Sean's collar. "Stand up, there's a good boy." As soon as Sean's up, Bill pushes him against the nearest wall, kissing him hard.

Sean just about purrs under Bill's lips. Kneeling and waiting for Bill was enough to get him half-hard; being pressed up against the wall quickly gets him the rest of the way, and his cock rubs against Bill's thigh as he takes in Bill's taste and the way he smells this close up. _Mmmm._

"Fuck, you feel good," Bill says when he finally pulls away. "I had a thought," he continues, taking up Sean's leash and heading for the kitchen. "There was this girl working out when I was in the gym; she had some very nice looking scratches and her Master told me they'd been doing some knife play." He looks at Sean. "We had talked about trying that out at some point."

There's a leap in Sean's stomach -- it feels like it's jumped straight into his throat -- and an answering jerk from his cock, and he exhales slowly. "Yes, master," he murmurs. The sensation running through him isn't panic or fear, but there's a low hum of voices in the back of his head now, most of them not able to manage anything more coherent than _oh God_ or _oh fuck_.

"You sure?" Bill says, pouring himself a glass of water. He watches Sean closely as he takes a long drink. "I don't want you doing this just because I suggested it."

"I understand, master," Sean says, "and I do want to do this. I can't say there's not a part of me that's still nervous, but I don't want that stopping us. I want to go there with you."

"Good," Bill says after finishing the glass of water. "Downstairs, then; we'll set up the table and see what you look like when you bleed."

_Christ, how long has it been?_ Sean wonders. _Fucking forever._ He nods and rubs his palms down his thighs, a nervous little gesture that works better when he's got clothes on and the sweat has somewhere to go. He nods, though, painfully aware that it's going to be difficult walking and heading downstairs when he's this hard.

Once they're in the basement and the table's set up, Bill gets out the case of knives. "Up on the table, boy," he says, pulling out gloves and alcohol wipes. "On your back first."

"Yes, master," Sean murmurs, climbing up and stretching out on his back. "I -- may I ask for something, master? Before you start."

"Of course," Bill replies, moving to the head of the table.

Sean reaches out, stopping short of actually touching Bill without being told to. "I just wanted -- another kiss, please, master," Sean says, almost embarrassed about needing to ask. "Just to keep me settled."

Without even bothering to say anything, Bill bends down and kisses Sean, one hand gripping Sean's shoulder tightly. He takes his time about it, backing off a couple of times in order to bite and suck at Sean's lower lip.

This time Sean does reach out, wrapping his fingers lightly around Bill's arm and sinking into the kiss. It does settle him, more completely than he'd realized it would, and embarrassment or no he's damn glad he asked for the kiss.

"You ready, boy?" Bill asks when he finally lifts his head. It's strange how Sean can make him feel both protective and tender like this, and even stranger to feel like that when he's about to use a knife on Sean.

"Yes, master," Sean says, much more sure of himself this time. That protectiveness -- the feeling that Bill would do anything it took to keep him safe -- is exactly what Sean needed, and he settles down now, not feeling nervous at all. In fact, it takes a few seconds to realize what he _is_ feeling -- that warm glow in the pit of his stomach, arousal that feels good but isn't urgent -- _anticipation._ Something he hasn't associated with knife scenes in ages.

"Good boy," Bill murmurs, bending to give Sean a much lighter kiss, before he turns to pull the gloves on. "I'm not going to do anything heavy here," he explains, opening up one of his folding knives and cleaning the blade off. He runs the back of the blade down Sean's arm, watching Sean closely.

Sean's eyes are fixed to the blade, watching it run over his skin and forcing himself not to shiver. Knifework requires such attention to detail -- maybe it's the opposite of being ignored; maybe that sort of focus and concentration are what really attract him.

_Then again, maybe it's just the idea of giving my master my blood,_ he thinks wryly, looking back up at Bill's face. "Good so far, master," he breathes.

"Good," Bill says. He turns the knife over before he drags it back up Sean's skin, scraping, as opposed to slicing, with the sharp edge. He's still watching Sean, dividing his attention between the blade and Sean's face.

Sean's just thinking it's too soon to start begging. This feels so good -- all of it feels _good_, not scary, not troubling, just bloody fantastic. "God, master," he breathes, "oh, Christ, _yes_."

Now it's the point, and Bill's dragging it lightly down Sean's chest, watching the faint white line the steel leaves behind. "Your skin was fucking made for this, boy."

It's getting harder and harder not to squirm. Sean's out of practice, and the scratch burns a little as it goes. "Feels so good, master," he murmurs.

"Does it, boy?" Bill asks, making another scratch parallel to the first. "You like it, don't you? The danger and the pain and the look of the blade as it touches your skin."

"Yes," Sean groans. "Christ, master, please -- I want to bleed for you." He bites his lower lip hard after saying it and wonders if he's pushing things. He can't help it, though; he wants to see blood on his skin, wants to offer to lick blood off Bill's knife, just _wants_, anything that could possibly be on offer.

This time Bill guides the knife down the original line -- right down the middle of Sean's chest to his navel -- only he actually bears down, opening up a very long, very shallow cut in Sean's skin. For a moment it's just a thin line, and then small beads of blood well up. Bill catches his breath just a little; there are very few things that move him like the sight of a boy bleeding for him.

Sean watches long enough to see the way he's starting to bleed and then closes his eyes, sinking down into the table and feeling so fucking grateful his eyes are stinging. "Thank you," he whispers, "fuck, master, thank you so much."

"Beautiful," Bill murmurs. "So fucking gorgeous." He makes another shallow cut, this one at an angle from Sean's collarbone to just above his left nipple. "You look so good bleeding for me, boy."

"_Master_," Sean pants; he forces himself to get his eyes open again because he's not sure how much longer he's going to be able to form words. "Yes -- please -- anything," he whispers, "_anything_."

"Deeper?" Bill asks, wishing he could lean down and lick the blood of Sean's skin. "Do you want me to go deeper, boy?"

"Yes, master, _please_," Sean begs, tilting his head up again so he can watch.

Moving quickly and surely, Bill brings the knife down to to Sean's thigh. Keeping his eye on the blade, he strokes the blunt side of the blade along Sean's cock.

Sean's cock jerks in response to that -- there's no way he could stop it -- and he sucks in a breath. "Christ, I've wanted this for so long," he murmurs. "Please, master, let me bleed for you."

This time the movement is deliberate, giving Sean plenty of time to prepare for it. Bill makes one long cut down the inside of Sean's thigh and then brings the knife over to the other leg and makes another cut, watching as both cuts bleed almost instantly. "God, boy," he says. "Look at that, will you?"

Sean comes up on his elbows, then, getting a better look, and groans as he sees the red streaks on his thighs. "_Christ_," he pants, and it's an effort to keep from reaching out and squeezing the base of his cock hard; it's not going to be easy holding back. Especially not with fantasies of Bill jerking off on his thighs sparking off hard and his whole body aching to be fucked.

"Tell me what you want," Bill says, staring at Sean's thighs. "Tell me what you need right now, boy."

"Oh, God -- oh, _please_ \-- Master -- please fuck your slave," Sean whispers, "_please_, master."

"Scoot down here, boy," Bill says, digging in his pocket for a condom and the lube. He gets the latex on, lubes his cock quickly and then grabs Sean's legs just below the knee. "Gonna fuck you so hard, boy," he says, pushing Sean's legs up and back. Positioning his cock, Bill shoves in with one hard thrust, grunting a little at how tight Sean is.

"Master--!" Sean reaches up, tries to curl his whole body up so he can get closer to Bill. He gets his hands on Bill's shoulders and hangs on, eyes squeezing shut as Bill slams into him. "_Fuck_, you feel so good," he gasps.

"So ... do you," Bill says, already breathless as he pounds into Sean as hard as he can. "Get your hand down there, boy. Wanna see you licking your blood off your fingers."

"Master, please, I'll come if I--" Sean's still getting his hand on his thigh, streaking blood across his fingers; he's not delaying, just desperate. "I don't think I can hold back if I'm licking up blood," he pants, "please, master, may I come for you?"

"Yeah," Bill growls, knowing damn well that the sight of Sean licking his fingers will be enough for him, too. "Do it, boy."

Sean slides his fingers into his mouth, licks at the smears of blood, tastes copper and salt and barely manages to keep from biting himself as he comes. For a split-second he's flashing back to the first time he licked blood off his fingers during sex, and then he's slammed back to the here and now with Bill inside him, and he throws his head back and groans. "Oh _fuck_ master so fucking good..."

"God," Bill groans and it's pretty much all he can manage before he's pushing into Sean one last time and coming hard. "Fuck," he gasps after a few seconds of heavy breathing. "Goddamn."

Sean can't help grinning. Ear-to-ear grinning, the kind of smile that's going to hurt after a while, but he can't stop. He reaches up with the hand that isn't streaked with blood and slides his fingers over Bill's neck, runs his thumb over Bill's jawline. "Thank you," he whispers.

"I'm just glad it was OK for you," Bill says. He laughs a little. "That's me, the world's most altruistic master. I didn't do that for me at all."

"It was a hell of a lot better than OK," Sean says, laughing too. "It was everything I was hoping it'd be. Everything I missed about being cut." He blushes at the last of that, glancing down at his thighs and going even more red. "Well, close to everything," he murmurs.

"Oh?" Bill asks, pulling back and carefully letting go of Sean's legs. He strips off the gloves and the condom quickly and moves up to rest his hand on Sean's shoulder. "Was there something you'd like to happen next time?"

"Maybe?" Sean isn't even sure how to ask; they haven't talked much about things like this. "I mean... there are things we could do with bloodplay that I'd _like_," he says carefully, "but... we wouldn't have to -- I mean, ultimately it'd be up to you." He makes a face at himself, shaking his head. "Fuck, I hate when I talk around things. I'd love it if you'd cut me and come on me."

"You're kidding, right?" Bill says, unable to keep his hand from tightening on Sean's shoulder. "That's not safe." He knows his voice is sharper than it should be and he strokes Sean's shoulder. "Sorry. I have a ... thing about safety."

"I've picked up on that," Sean says dryly. "But we're not playing with anyone besides each other, and both of us come up clean on our tests. It's hard to get much safer than that -- unless you'd like to start playing with other people."

"You're suggesting something a lot bigger here," Bill says. "Can we... not be here when we talk about it?" He hates the almost tentative sound in his voice, but he can feel his heart thudding harder, and he knows that he's suddenly very afraid of where this conversation is going. _He's not a gay man; you need to calm down and accept that he's not going to think the way you do._

"Bed," he says a little more firmly. It just seems like it'll be easier to talk about it when he's not looking down at Sean like they're doing some weird medical scene.

"Bed, yeah," Sean says softly, sitting up. "Maybe a shower first, if that's all right?" There's obviously a lot more to talk about, and Sean's damned if he's going to drop the matter just yet.

"That sounds like a good idea," Bill says. "Together?" Suddenly he feels odd with Sean, as if he needs to be careful with him. _Damnit, he's my boy and if I want to shower with him, I'll fucking do it._

"I'd like that," Sean murmurs. He climbs off the table and slides his fingers through his hair, trying to settle down. _Relax. Nothing's wrong. You just need to talk._

Reaching out, Bill pulls Sean close for a moment, needing to make that contact. "Thank you," he says, after kissing Sean. "For the scene. I liked seeing you bleed, boy."

"I liked bleeding for you, master," Sean whispers, almost fiercely, as he clings to Bill. The contact feels good, better than he'd expected, and he's glad Bill's offering it. _Didn't know how much I needed this._

Bill kisses Sean more thoroughly, one hand holding the back of Sean's collar. "Good boy," he murmurs once he finally backs away a little, feeling much more grounded after the kiss. "Upstairs to the bathroom, then."

Once he's upstairs, Sean gets the water set and takes a moment to look at himself in the mirror. He's got faint scratches, and he's still got a few smears of blood on his thighs, and _Christ_ but it looks good. He's missed the adrenaline rush and the precision and having a top he could trust that far. He's missed all of that.

"Looks good on you," Bill says, coming up behind Sean. "I hope those on your thighs won't scar too much." He shakes his head. "God, I'd hate to have them visible next time you work and then have rumors go out that you're a cutter."

"I doubt anyone's going to be looking hard enough to see it," Sean says softly. "How much have you noticed the other marks I've got?"

"There is that," Bill says, kissing the back of Sean's neck just below the collar. "Shower, boy," he says, slapping Sean on the ass.

"Yes, master." Sean grins.

The shower's nice, and it's always good to get clean after a messy scene like that one. Sean doesn't even mind being fussed over a bit; Bill's attentiveness is soothing, and the sting from the soap is mild. It's still Sean's job to get Bill dried off -- he'd probably frown if he didn't get to do that -- but after they're both dried off, it's back to bed, where Sean curls up on Bill's chest and sighs. "You feel good, master," he murmurs.

"You feel good too, boy," Bill says, kissing Sean's damp hair. "So," he says after a few moments of silence. "We should talk about ... condoms and using them or not using them?"

"Yeah, I think we ought to." Sean stretches out, propping himself up on an elbow so he can look at Bill. "I don't want to push for something you're not ready for. I'd love to skip condoms, but it's not something I can't live without."

"I've been living without since the mid-80s," Bill says quietly.

_Forever_, Sean thinks, nodding. He reaches out and skims his fingertips over Bill's chest, wanting to reach out and touch while they're talking. "I understand," he says, just as quietly, "and I know it's not something that means you don't trust me. For me... going without condoms has sometimes been about intimacy and sometimes been purely about sensation. I suppose the real question is whether that's territory you _want_ to track into. It doesn't have to be."

"The odd thing is," Bill says, reaching up to hold Sean's hand against his chest. "No one's ever asked. With Terry, of course, it was in the contract; it's a standard clause in an Establishment contract. And with everyone else ... it's just never come up." He turns and looks at Sean. "So to be honest, I don't know how I feel about it."

Even as he says the words, he thinks about the idea of fucking Sean bare and catches his breath a little. _Fuck, but that would be hot._

"Okay," Sean says softly, leaning in to rub his cheek against Bill's arm. "There's no hurry. We have time to think about it more. Talk about it more. If it's something you want to do, I'm ready to go there with you. More than happy to go there with you. And if we try it and you have any second thoughts about it, we can go back to using condoms and it won't disappoint me." _I can't imagine you disappointing me,_ Sean thinks. And he wonders where the feeling that they've got all the time in the world comes from; they've only got a month left on their contract, a month and a half. That's not forever. It's an eyeblink, a heartbeat. _And I'm going to want more than that._ It stuns him, realizing they're a month away from the end of the contract and he already knows he's going to want more. _Christ, but I hope he feels the same way._

"Thank you," Bill says, leaning back a little to look at Sean. "I appreciate your patience with my baggage. I think if I were to do this ... I'd want to do it with you." There's no explaining the feeling, no real reason that Bill can articulate as to why he wants to bareback with Sean. But he does, God does he ever.

Sean leans in again and brushes his lips against Bill's. "You've been patient enough with me," he murmurs. "It's only fair."

"I'm always patient with good boys," Bill says. "And you've been an outstanding boy." He wonders if this would be a good time to talk about extending the contract, but he's not sure if Sean wants an extension. _Maybe this, three months, is all he wants. Just enough time to get him back on his feet, as it were._

Sean's grin is wide enough to light up half the room. "I'm glad you think so," he says. "It means a lot to me that you think so. You're an outstanding master, and I'm still loving the hell out of the way we fit."

"Are you?" Bill asks, looking at Sean very seriously. "What would you think about extending the contract?" Before Sean can answer, Bill holds up a hand. "You don't need to answer that now if you need time to think about it."

"How long?" Sean asks. "I do want more -- or at least I can tell you right now that another month isn't going to be long enough. I just want to know how long you want me." He sinks his teeth into the inside of his lower lip when he's done; that probably wasn't the best way to put it. _Like everything's finite. Like it's all supposed to have an expiration date. Yeah, he's still not the only one in this bed that has baggage._

"I usually go for a two year contract," Bill says, watching Sean closely for a reaction. "It's not just a matter of how long I want you. There's also how long you're going to want to be a slave."

"I--" Sean freezes solid, forces himself to take a breath. _Two years. Jesus, my last two marriages didn't last two years put together._ "I fuck things up," Sean says, flustered enough just to blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. "I don't want to fuck up again."

"Do you think," Bill asks, reaching for Sean's collar, "that I'll let you fuck things up?" It's not as easy as that, of course -- even the sternest master can't keep a boy from fucking things up -- but Bill thinks it's what Sean needs to hear right now.

And both the touch and the words settle Sean down, give him the room to take a long breath and let it out slowly. "I want to stay with you," he whispers. "I want to say yes. But two years is a different sort of contract from three months. We'd need to talk about time out of role -- living arrangments -- what happens if one of us is travelling -- how it's going to affect you if we're seen together enough for the tabloids to pick up on it." Sean grimaces at the last. "I'm the poster boy for gay Hollywood divorce," he says. "They'll ask if you're going to be next on my hit list."

"We can talk about all of that," Bill says. "I'd have insisted on it even if you didn't. I thought we might take some time away from the contract at the end of it. Say a couple of weeks? It would be a good time to negotiate all the various complications."

Sean nods. "A couple of weeks would be good," he says. "Are you ever curious how we'd relate out-of-role? Whether we'd get along as well as we do in it?"

"I've wondered," Bill says. He laughs a little. "It's not easy for me to be with someone out of role; I'm terribly autocratic. But I do like you; I like the time we spent when we're not particularly caught up in being master and slave. I think we'd get along; what do you think?"

"I think so, too," Sean says, feeling relief flood through him. The immediate sense of _I-can't-do-that_ fear is almost gone, and he's starting to feel comfortable with Bill again, that same sense of ease he always seems to feel when he's around Bill. "I enjoy you. I like your sense of humor. Actually..." Sean stretches, scratches at the back of his neck and gives Bill a wry grin. "It's not hard for me thinking of you as 'Bill', which is unusual for me when I've got a master. When I'm with you I can see my dom and I can see _you_, both, instead of just looking at you and seeing the role I want you to play for me."

"That's one hell of a compliment," Bill says. "And one I can honestly return. I think of you as a friend as well as my boy."

"I'm glad," Sean murmurs. "I've actually thought some about being out-of-role with you. Sort of comes on the heels of one of about eighty fantasies I have, things I'd like to do for you, things I'd love to have you do to me..."

"Oh, really?" Bill says curiously, rolling onto his side and going up on one elbow to look at Sean. "Tell me about that one, boy."

Sean grins and scoots closer. "You're damned good with pain, master," he says, "and I've thought a few times about what it'd be like to really push hard with that. Have you give me the kind of beating thattakes time to recover from, the kind where it might be a day or so before I can even move. It's a different fantasy from the ones where you're pushing me to safeword; it's not about a goal so much as just getting everything out of me I can give you." He rubs his cheek against Bill's arm before going on. "And I thought... it'd be interesting being out of role while I'm healing up from that. A week or two. Just to see what comes of it. Not out-of-role where we keep our hands off each other, and I doubt I could keep from begging _every_ time, but something where we're not focused on being master and slave so much as... just Bill and Sean."

"God," Bill says, shaking his head a little. "That sounds fucking great. I'd like to do it at the club so we can both be pampered afterwards. And so you don't have to worry about either cooking or eating my cooking." He pauses, thinking for a moment. "What would you say to a bit of a vacation? There's a branch of the club down on the Algarve in Portugal. They've got a nice private beach, one hell of a restaurant and a nice selection of playrooms. Not like London, but it'd be a chance to get some sun and relax a bit."

"I'd say yes," Sean says immediately. "Actually, I'd say, _yes, please, Master_. God, yes." It sounds amazing.

"All right," Bill says, grinning. "How about next week? We can book a suite for a couple of weeks. I'll beat the crap out of you and then we'll just laze around recovering and being us."

"Next week's perfect," Sean says, grinning right back. "Can't think of anything I'd rather be doing."


End file.
